The Closer You Come

Tonight I’ll study every design. Trace them with my tongue. She shivered.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she replied, breathless.

He cleared his throat. “Your Honor,” he said and paced in front of her, the panther-like grace of him making her shiver all over again. “I want something more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. It’s been promised to me, and it would be cruel and unusual punishment if it was taken away from me.”

He paused to glance at her.

He wanted her more than anything? “Appealing to the judge’s sense of compassion,” she said with a nod. “Nice try. Unfortunately for you, I’ve heard this particular judge is a coldhearted witch.”

The flash of a smile before his eyes hooded. “Perhaps I should show the judge what I’m bringing to the table.”

“Permission to approach the bench,” she said, crooking her finger at him.

He closed the distance, his hands at his sides. Her heart drummed as butterflies danced excitedly through her veins.

When he stopped between her legs, she sat up as if pulled by a rope. Trembling, she flattened her palms on his chest, over the most detailed map she’d ever seen. It covered one of his pecs, the lines of it somehow raised.

Not somehow. They weren’t an illusion caused by the ink—they were scars. More scars than she could count without intense study.

She knew so little about this man, she realized. Well, other than the fact that he had a lot of secrets, clearly more than she’d ever suspected. And they were violent secrets, steeped in bloodshed. But she also knew he was a good guy, strong and capable, and right now, that was enough.

Besides, she could guess he’d gotten the wounds while in the military—he’d never confirmed nor denied her suspicions, so she was running with it. As tough as he was, he could have been Special Forces.

And how sexy was that? Proving just how much of a protector he really was.

Next to the map was a tree with olives of some type, black birds perched on the branches. There was also a redbud, the root of it sinking past the waist of his pants. And on his side was a cross with crimson flowing down it, pooling to spell the word Strength.

She stroked the insides of the map first, her trembling getting worse. His muscles jumped at the moment of contact. The heat of him delighted her, burned away the rest of her resistance. She leaned forward to kiss and lick her way to the upper edge of the olive tree.

His fingers entwined with her hair, holding her close. She sucked on his nipple, nibbled, and he hissed in a breath. He captured one of her hands, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, ever the gentleman—before tracing his fingers along her jaw, down her neck and cupping her nape, ever the possessor.

“How long has it been for you, honey?”

“Four years,” she answered honestly and pulled her gaze from his chest to peer up at his face. His expression had softened yet again, only this time he looked as if he’d melted with tenderness.

Jase ghosted his fingertips over her cheek before crouching in front of her. “I’ll take good care of you.” He gripped the hem of her shirt and lifted, her hair tumbling around her shoulders as he discarded the material.

“Just a plain white bra,” she said apologetically, unable to hide the new flood of nervousness, hating that the undergarment wasn’t fancy and pink. Or red. Yeah. Definitely red.

“My new favorite.” He unhooked the center, and the straps fell down her arms. “Been dying for these ever since you flashed me. More so since I had them in my hands.”

Cool air caused her nipples to harden almost painfully. He traced the pads of his thumbs over them, twin lances of pleasure shooting through her.

“Just so you know,” he said, “I’ve been tested since—since my last lover. I’m clean.”

His last lover. Her sister? She hadn’t even thought to ask.

Stupid! “Me, too,” she said. “Before you, I was only with one other...but he moved away...college... We didn’t want to try the long-distance-relationship thing.” Stop babbling! “We always used a condom.”

More tenderness from him. “Only one man?”

“A boy, really.” She combed her fingers through his hair, urging him to bend down and take her lips, but he kept going lower, fitting his mouth over one of her nipples. His tongue flicked it, readying it, before he sucked on her. A fever flushed her skin, liquefied her bones and short-circuited her thoughts.

“Jase.” Just then, it was the only word she was capable of saying.

He flicked and sucked faster, harder, while working at the waist of her shorts. As soon as the button and zipper gave way, he leaned away from her to yank the material down her legs. When the edge caught on her sandals, he removed them, too.

Her new outfit? A pair of panties and a full-body blush. The momentary self-confidence crash faded as he urged her to her back, to the cool sheets and the soft luxury of the mattress. A second later, his hard body was pinning her down. As heavy with muscle as he was, he had to shift to the side to keep from crushing her.

She loved his nearness, even as it struck a new chord of desire in her. To have this, him, at least once a day. Like breakfast, the most important meal. “Kiss me,” she said.

He fit his legs between hers and placed one of her knees against his hip, his mouth finding...her breast again, laving her nipple with even more wicked attention.

“Not...there... Oh!” The alignment of his hardness to her aching softness allowed her to grind against him, slow, faster, until she was gasping out, desperate, needy, thrashing blindly.